


Sink or Swim

by topleaf



Series: Seasons of Bagginshield [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lifeguards, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Humor, Lifeguard!Thorin, M/M, Mutual Pining, Thorin Has a Crush, bilbo's just an exhausted single parent/guardian, lifeguard AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:20:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25577209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topleaf/pseuds/topleaf
Summary: Thorin watches the clock from his perch beside the pool. Every Saturday, at precisely 9:15 AM, Mr. Baggins enters the room with a coffee. Today is no different.In which Thorin is a lifeguard who’s too distracted by the cute guy who brings little Frodo to swimming lessons every Saturday to actually do his job.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Series: Seasons of Bagginshield [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891498
Comments: 38
Kudos: 208





	Sink or Swim

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this on a hot day before I went to the pool. Enjoy the silliness ;)

* * *

Thorin watches the clock from his perch beside the pool. Every Saturday, at precisely 9:15 AM, Mr. Baggins enters the room with a coffee. Today is no different; Thorin's heart jumps when the small, curly-haired man shuffles across the pool deck in his brown Oxfords, apologizing or nodding curtly to everyone he passes. Despite the summer weather, Mr. Baggins is determined to wear his signature pairing of sweater vest and dress shirt and sip on a hot cup of black coffee. Once he's sitting in the bleachers, he pops the lid open and puffs out his rosy cheeks, blowing on it before his first taste. His brow furrows in dissatisfaction and he smacks his lips. Quick pause. A slight shrug before he takes another sip and resigns to the mediocre quality of the Misty Mountain Cafe's dark roast. 

For what must be the twelfth time, Thorin wonders if Mr. Baggins has ever considered trying his favourite cafe, Durin's Donuts. Misty Mountain Cafe is nearest to the pool, but Durin's Donuts is on Thorin's way to work and he finds their iced caramel lattes quite pleasing. He wants to ask Mr. Baggins if he has a secret sweet-tooth, and what his favourite song is, and what his hobbies are besides bringing his adorable son to his swimming lessons. Mr. Baggins always has his laptop open, fingers tapping away, and Thorin wonders whether it's for work or for leisure. He slaps his laptop closed when other parents engage him in small-talk, which Mr. Baggins despises, but he seems to be skilled at feigning pleasantness. Thorin stifles a grin when Mr. Baggins sneakily rolls his eyes, smiling to himself as he reopens his laptop. Then those eyes flicker up to meet Thorin's, and Thorin plummets back into reality, heat spreading from his chest to his ears. Thorin is a lifeguard. He's supposed to be watching the pool.

A head of dark curls bobs up and down in the shallow end along with his classmates. That's Mr. Baggins' son Frodo. At least, Thorin assumes it’s his son. Mr. Baggins looks old enough to have a little boy, but the two don't share much resemblance. Thorin only calls him Mr. Baggins because it is the little boy's last name—he learned it by stealing a glance at the instructor's attendance book. Thorin does not dare to speak to Mr. Baggins, of course. He only sees him on Saturday mornings, and while Mr. Baggins is clad in charming proper attire, Thorin is wearing tight red swim shorts. His only other accessories are his runners and the whistle dangling in the middle of his hairy chest. Thorin wonders if Mr. Baggins is into beards.

Thorin finds himself absentmindedly stroking the thick scruff on his chin. Mr. Baggins peers up at him over the back of his laptop. Thorin is unable to look away as Mr. Baggins brings his coffee to his lips without breaking eye contact. Mr. Baggins breaks it first and a splash of dark brown is spilling all over his sweater vest, his cup tumbling to the floor as he stands up and hurls himself over the bleachers, shouting “Frodo” while struggling to pull his sweater vest over his golden head. Thorin squints at him. Then he notices the little head of dark curls frantically bobbing up and down in the deep end of the pool.

He jumps down from his chair and dives in, reaching the little one in three swift strokes. He wraps an arm around him and lifts him onto the pool deck with one hand.

“My Uncle, he can’t swim!” The little one shouts, pointing behind Thorin.

Thorin whips around to see the other curly head, his _favourite_ curly head, sinking deeper into the pool between frantic arms. He dives in, wrapping his arms around him from behind, and brings him to the surface. Mr. Baggins is gasping and sputtering as Thorin hauls him onto the pool deck, his dress shirt and pants soaked and clinging to him.

“You might need to do mouth-to-mouth,” the little one says, wide blue eyes pleading up at Thorin.

“Oh, shut up, lad,” Mr. Baggins gasps out. His hair is sticking to his head, dripping into his eyes.

The children’s instructor, Tauriel, rushes over to them. “Shit, I stepped away for _one moment_ and little Frodo must’ve run off. That’s not like you at all, Frodo!”

Mr. Baggins shakes his bangs out of his face just to shoot Frodo a deadly glare. “She’s right! What on Earth do you think you were doing?”

“But—” Frodo starts, but he’s interrupted when Mr. Baggins scrambles onto his knees and embraces him.

Mr. Baggins pulls away and shakes Frodo’s shoulders. “I was terrified for you, Frodo, don’t you remember—oh, bebother, I will have _words_ for you later, young man!”

“Uncle, you told me to pretend to drown!” 

“ _What_?!” Mr. Baggins looks back at Thorin, wide-eyed, before turning back to Frodo and shaking a finger in front of his nose. “I was not being serious, Frodo, I—,”

Frodo looks over Mr. Baggins’ shoulder at Thorin. “Mr. Lifeguard, my Uncle Bilbo has a crush on you, he told me himself! I almost died just now, so _please_ go on a date with him.”

“ _Frodo_ ,” Mr. Baggins growls, then gets to his feet and grins sheepishly up at Thorin. “Please excuse my nephew, he lost his parents last year and would very much like a second father, likely because I’m not the best father figure for him, the poor lad, I’m doing my best, but I’m, well, never mind all of this, I’m babbling aren’t I?”

Thorin stands there, dumbstruck and dripping wet, knowing he should say something but his tongue feels swollen and trapped.

Mr. Baggins’ grin falls away and he looks down at his soaked Oxfords. “My apologies for the trouble.” He straightens his back and lifts his chin up. “Thank you for saving Frodo and I.”

Thorin gulps, and then a set of towels slams into his head, draping over his face. When he pulls them off, he sees Mr. Baggins take Frodo’s hand and drag him away to the bleachers.

“You idiot,” Tauriel whispers to Thorin. “Frodo is the best swimmer in his class, and do you really think I let him out of my sight by accident?”

Thorin blinks. “Wait, you—?”

“I’ve seen you and Mr. Baggins making eyes at each other every Saturday for three months, now _go talk to him_.” Tauriel shoves him forward.

“Alright,” Thorin breathes. “You can do this, Oakenshield.”

Mr. Baggins and Frodo are pattering to the changeroom. Frodo looks back at Thorin, and he pulls on Mr. Baggins’ hand, stopping him.

Thorin hurries over and clears his throat. “Here. Towels.”

Mr. Baggins seems to be distracted by Thorin’s chest. Frodo nudges him.

“Right!” Mr. Baggins takes the towels and wraps them both around Frodo.

Thorin consciously smooths out his brow, feeling the pressure of his own resting scowl—an unfortunate habit that Tauriel and many others have pointed out.

Thorin clears his throat again. “One of those towels was for you, Mr. Baggins.” 

Mr. Baggins quirks one eyebrow. “You know my last name?”

Thorin claps a hand to his mouth and maybe if he wishes hard enough, the floor will swallow him whole.

“Bilbo,” Mr. Baggins says, holding out his hand. His eyes are a grayish-blue, Thorin notices. “That’s my first name. What’s yours?”

“Thorin,” he manages, and grasps Mr. Baggins’ hand. His breath hitches slightly when he realizes how much smaller and softer it is.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Bilbo says, a soft grin spreading on his face. 

“You too,” Thorin grunts.

An expectant pause falls between them, and Bilbo nods. “Right, I’m feeling rather humiliated here, so we best be off.”

“Can I buy you a new coffee?” Thorin blurts.

“Yes I’d like that,” Bilbo replies immediately, then clears his throat awkwardly. “Although, maybe another day, when I’m not in sopping wet clothes. When are you off?”

Thorin fumbles with one of the long wet strands of hair that has escaped his bun. “I’m off in two hours, but I’m also free tomorrow morning.”

“Great, I’ll be back in two hours,” Bilbo says. “That is, if it’s okay if Frodo comes along? I don’t really have time to find him a sitter.”

Thorin’s stomach is doing acrobatics. “That’s perfectly fine.”

“I can find a sitter for tomorrow though, if necessary,” Bilbo says. “Shit, I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? Anyway, I’ll see you in two hours.”

“See you then,” Thorin replies. He hopes Bilbo won’t mind going to Durin’s Donuts with a man in gym clothes. “Do you...do you want to exchange numbers?”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Bilbo scrambles for his phone.

“ _Finally_ ,” Frodo breathes, and Bilbo pretends to smack him over the head.

Thorin watches the two of them bicker cutely as they disappear into the changeroom. He hopes Mr. Baggins—Bilbo—likes sweet things and beards. Thorin climbs back up to his perch next to the pool and watches the clock, knowing time will only move slower when he has so much to look forward to. He is glad today ended up being quite different after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Say hi to me on [tumblr!](https://raventhorin.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed this! If people like this, perhaps I'll continue it ;)


End file.
